


Through the Woods and Far Away

by celeste9



Category: Primeval
Genre: Christmas, F/F, Geographical Isolation, Gift Fic, Sharing a Bed, Snow, Snowed In, Storytelling, Time Travel, Wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 14:49:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah gets stranded through an anomaly but finds some unexpected help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Woods and Far Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raptor_moon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raptor_moon/gifts).



> Primeval Denial Secret Santa for raptor_moon, incorporating all your prompts in some fashion or another: stranded, snow day, fire and ice, tradition. Beta by fififolle. Using this for my Ladies Bingo free space, 'miles from anywhere: geographical isolation'.

“Well, this was a bad idea,” Sarah muttered as she walked down the wooded path.

If she ever managed to end up back in the right place, Becker was going to kill her. He would be really self-righteous about it, too.

The thing was, she knew she shouldn’t have gone through. Hindsight was always 20/20, right? If she could do it again, she would stay back at the ARC. Honestly, though, could she really be blamed for the anomaly having apparently flickered closed and then open so fast that no one even knew it would go somewhere else? Could she be blamed for the fact that it had closed behind her?

She didn’t think so. Becker could shove it.

When she saw him again, that is.

She shivered, rubbing her hands over her folded arms and wishing she had more than the thin sleeves of her shirt to keep her warm. It was snowing, just a light fall of flakes, pretty, but not nice at all when you were out walking in it without even a jacket. It had been much warmer where she’d come from. In fact, she was certain she had never been this cold in her entire life.

Sarah needed to find shelter, and fast.

She wished she knew where she was, or even when she was. She was inclined to think that she had ended up somewhere reasonably close to her own time period, given that the trees lining the path were all recognisable, even considering all but the pine trees were bare and leafless.

Also, the fact that the path she was walking down was actually a path, the dirt worn down by so many footsteps treading the same ground, back and forth. It could only be the result of human traffic.

“What are you doing here?”

Sarah started, turning towards the spot where she thought the voice had come from.

Standing there amidst the trees, a short distance off the path, was a young woman of perhaps roughly Sarah’s age. She was dressed in long skirts that fell to her feet and a warm-looking cloak, the hood pulled up to cover her dark hair. She also had a knife in her hand, which she held as though she knew how to use it.

“I’m Sarah,” Sarah said, holding out her own empty hands. “Please, I’m not sure where I am, but I promise I’m not dangerous. Of course, even I were, I probably wouldn’t tell you that, would I?” She stopped talking.

The woman stepped closer, her eyes narrowed as she appeared to assess Sarah’s threat level. She must have decided it was fairly low, as she drew nearly to within touching distance, remaining alert but not aggressive. “How did you get here?”

“It was an accident. I came through an…” Would this stranger understand Sarah’s meaning if she said, ‘anomaly’? Would she think Sarah was crazy if she tried to explain?

But the woman solved Sarah’s dilemma on her own. “You came through the gateway. The light.”

“Yes. Did you as well?”

The woman nodded. “Some days ago. My name is Emily.”

“Glad to meet you.” Sarah shivered, clutching her arms tightly around herself.

That seemed to trigger Emily into action. She put the knife away and removed her cloak, swinging it around Sarah’s shoulders. “Come, you look as though you might drop. I’ve been staying in a small cabin not far from here; you can warm up there.”

“Thanks,” Sarah said, pulling the ends of the cloak snugly closed, but Emily had already turned and begun walking down the path. Sarah hurried to catch up and they proceeded in silence. The path turned at one point but it was fairly straight-forward through the woods, enough so that Sarah thought she could have found the cabin even on her own.

It was about ten minutes’ walking before they arrived at their destination, Emily staying quiet the whole time. Sarah gathered she wasn’t exactly the talkative type.

The cabin was small and quaint, made of wooden logs and surrounded by trees, with a pile of firewood stacked and covered nearby. It was the sort of place that might be in a drama about nineteenth century America. Once they were inside, Emily hurried to the fireplace to rekindle the fire and warm the room up. It was only one room, with a loft overhead. There was just the big fireplace with a collection of pots and pans near to it, a table and chairs, and a bed half hidden behind a partially closed curtain.

Sarah went to kneel in front of the fireplace, holding her hands out and feeling her fingertips tingle.

“Here,” Emily said, taking the cloak back, which was now faintly damp from the melting snowflakes. She hung it up and offered Sarah a warm, knitted blanket instead.

“Thanks,” Sarah said again, this time at least earning a slight nod. “Do you know where we are?”

Emily had wrapped herself up in another blanket and sat beside Sarah, near to the fire. “In America, the territory of Minnesota.”

“Territory?”

“It’s 1852.”

“Huh.” Well, that seemed about right. It was only about a thousand years later than where she was supposed to have ended up.

She was only an ocean apart and a hundred and sixty years from home.

“Long way from home?” Emily asked, as though reading Sarah’s thoughts.

“You could say that.”

Emily looked sympathetic. “I know the feeling.”

“Where are you supposed to be?”

Emily shrugged. “I’m not _supposed_ to be anywhere. I’ve been… traveling, but I was separated from my companions. Really, it would be easy enough for me to get home. The problem is, right now there is a little girl called Emily Rowe living in England. I’m not sure it would be the best idea for me to meet her.”

Sarah couldn’t help the low chuckle that escaped her. “I have a friend who would love to discuss exactly why that’s a bad idea with you. At length.”

When she smiled, Emily’s face grew infinitely warmer. It was only the tiniest upturning of lips but it made her beautiful. Well, let’s be honest. She was beautiful anyway, but the effect was still lovely.

Sarah realised she was staring and averted her gaze. She waved her hand around at their surroundings. “Lucky you found this.”

“Yes, it was a stroke of luck indeed. The place must have been abandoned only recently, as it seems no one came by to make off with the supplies. Whoever lived here must have met with unfortunate circumstances, as I can’t understand why else they would have left everything.”

Her matter-of-fact tone was more than a little disconcerting. Sarah pointedly did not think about what ‘unfortunate circumstances’ most likely meant.

“Actually,” Emily continued, unperturbed, “if you like, I can get some warmer clothing for you. There’s a trunk near the bed.”

“That would be amazing,” Sarah said, not needing to be asked twice. It was perhaps a little morbid to wear clothing that had belonged to a person who was in all likelihood deceased, but it was far better than getting frostbite - or worse. She walked over with Emily and then accepted a woolen dress that looked like it might be a bit too small but certainly warm.

Emily politely turned her back while Sarah quickly shed her clothes and squeezed into the dress. It was slightly too tight but wearable. “How do I look?” she asked, twirling in a circle.

Emily’s mouth twitched in amusement but her tone was solemn. “Quite like a pioneer woman.”

Sarah laughed. “Not sure I’ll pass to the actual pioneers, but at least I probably won’t freeze.”

“There’s a cloak as well, and gloves for when you need to go outside.”

“Perfect. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to sit by the fire again.” So Sarah did, sitting comfortably on the furs near the fireplace and wrapping up in the blanket. As Emily joined her, Sarah said, “You know what would be nice right now? Some hot chocolate. Or perhaps some warm apple cider with rum in. Lots and lots of rum.”

“I’m afraid we don’t have that in our supplies,” Emily said, still so serious.

Sarah wondered what it would take to make Emily laugh.

The snow continued to fall, thick and fast. Sarah looked through the lone window once to observe the blanketing of white upon the ground. It didn’t show any sign of stopping, causing Sarah to fear they might end up snowed in.

While they didn’t have cocoa or rum, they did have enough to survive on if they did end up stuck. Bags of staples like flour, rice, sugar, salt, cornmeal, and dried beans, along with dried fruit, bacon, some pickled vegetables and salted meat. There was bread that Emily had baked that morning and even coffee.

They sipped hot coffee made in a pot over the fire and ate bacon sandwiches, though Sarah was forced to admit that she may never have eaten worse bread. It must have shown on her face because Emily said, “I’m sorry about the bread. I’m not-- I had people to do that sort of thing for me before, you know. I’ve learned on my travels but I’m afraid a lifetime of uselessness is difficult to overcome.”

Sarah found she was oddly touched by the hint of vulnerability Emily was displaying. She had seemed so capable and sure of herself. “You’ve done better than me, surely. I wouldn’t know the first thing about baking bread. I’m lucky if I can get water to boil.”

There was colour in Emily’s cheeks, as though she was blushing, and she looked grateful at Sarah’s words.

“So, servants?” Sarah asked. “You must be a fine lady beneath all that travel dust.”

Emily, seemingly reflexively, brushed at her skirts. “A lady, perhaps, though many would argue against my being ‘fine’.”

Her face had turned pensive and Sarah decided not to pursue the subject. Perhaps best left for another day, a day that was not the day of their first meeting.

It wasn’t until Sarah lapsed into an almost embarrassingly huge yawn that she realised how tired she was. It occurred to her that there was only one bed.

“Would you like to retire?” Emily asked. “I must admit I’ll be glad for the company. It will be much warmer with the two of us.”

Well. There it was. “To bed then,” Sarah said, and hoped she wouldn’t make a fool of herself.

-

Sarah awoke with the comfortable heat of another body pressed against her side. She sighed, wishing she could just lie there forever, wishing it wasn’t only for convenience that Emily was beside her. It had been a long time since Sarah had awoken in anything but an empty bed.

She lay in bed for a while, partly because the sensation was so nice but also because the air of the cabin felt chilled and Sarah really, really didn’t want to get out from underneath the blankets. She supposed it would be only fair that she be the one to stoke the fire this time, but… Just a few more minutes.

Except of course, Emily started stirring. She wriggled around and then stilled, as though she’d realised she was curled into Sarah’s side, and then she immediately sat up. “Forgive me,” she murmured, swinging her legs out of bed and moving to the fireplace.

“It’s all right,” Sarah said, but she could see the pink flush in Emily’s cheeks even from the bed. It was sweet. Emily was sweet with her little Victorian hang-ups. Apparently sharing a bed for warmth was perfectly normal until there was too much cuddling.

Sarah got up then as well, holding a blanket around her shoulders and walking to the window. “Oh, my,” she breathed, seeing the white expanse of snow outside. It looked like they wouldn’t be venturing outside today, after all.

The drifts were piled high, more snow than Sarah had ever seen. Thankfully the overhanging roof above the door had kept them from getting completely blocked in - with a bit of effort they should be able to push the door open. They would need to get outside if they ran out of water or firewood, and, frankly, so they could dump the chamber pot.

“How do people live here?” Sarah asked.

“I’ve seen worse,” Emily said, rather nonchalantly.

“Well, pardon me, I’m not quite the world traveler you are.” Sarah paused. “World and time traveler? I feel like there should be a better name for it.”

“Traveler would suit fine, I believe.”

Sarah looked askance at Emily. “Did you make a joke? I was beginning to think you didn’t know how.”

“It’s a rare occurrence,” Emily said solemnly. “You should feel honoured.”

Sarah grinned. “Well, we can work on it. Looks like I might be here a while.”

“Yes, certainly until the snow clears a bit. I wouldn’t advise going out today if you can at all help it.”

“Sounds good to me.”

They fixed what passed for breakfast, mixing some of the cornmeal with water to make a sort of porridge that tasted fairly awful, but was palatable with some dried fruit added in. They settled by the fireplace again, which of course was the warmest area in the cabin. Even after only the brief time Sarah had spent here, in a time before central heating, it wasn’t difficult to see why the term ‘hearth’ had become so synonymous with home.

Sarah arranged her blanket more satisfactorily around herself. “What exactly are you doing here, Emily? Do you want to leave? Do you want to simply stay here?”

Emily looked off into the distance, towards the window. “I know that my goal should be to go home, but I’m not sure I’m ready.”

Sarah kept quiet after the utterance of that loaded statement. She was immensely curious but she doubted Emily would say anything she wasn’t ready to say, no matter how much she was prodded.

In the end, Emily went on in a more practical manner. “The winters here are long and hard and we’re stuck in the middle of it. Every day I go out walking, to see if I can find…”

“The anomaly?”

“Is that what you call them? We called them gateways. But yes, the anomaly. The one I came through, or a different one. To venture farther out, alone, without the proper care, would be foolish. Not until the weather begins to lift.”

Sarah could see the wisdom in Emily’s words, though admittedly she wasn’t best pleased at the thought of surviving in this tiny cabin all winter long. “I would say that you aren’t alone any more, but I’m afraid my survival skills are minimal at best.”

“Have you not been through a gateway before? Yet you seem familiar with them.”

“I’m more of a researcher.”

“I see. You study them?”

“In theory that’s what I was hired for, but we... We’ve had some setbacks.” Sarah bit her lip and closed her mind to the memories.

“I’m sorry.”

Sarah shrugged. “Don’t be. You don’t even know me.”

“Perhaps not,” Emily said, but there was something tight and unhappy in the set of her face.

“Anyway,” Sarah said, wanting more than anything to change the subject, “the anomalies keep us busy enough with everything they send through. It’s hard to get in a decent day’s research when you’re trying to keep a _Pristichampsus_ from rampaging through London, you know?”

“I imagine so,” Emily agreed, a faint smile threatening at the corners of her mouth.

“Have you seen one before? A _Pristichampsus_? Nasty things,” Sarah said, warming to the subject. Being snowed in didn’t have to be bad, after all.

-

There was a shovel that Sarah and Emily took turns using to clear paths through the snow when necessary. It wasn’t particularly ergonomic, but it did the job well enough. Even so, it was a few days before Emily deemed it okay to go out looking for anomalies again.

“We’ll travel around the back of the cabin, towards the northeast to start with,” Emily directed. “That will take us to the spot where I came through.”

“Is that an order? You should know, I don’t particularly get along well with orders.”

Emily seemed surprised by the comment, but then she inclined her head. “That makes two of us. How about we agree to work together?”

“I can accept that.”

“Then, would you be amenable to my suggestion?”

Sarah nodded. “Seems sensible enough.”

As they walked, bundled up in cloaks, Sarah said conversationally, “So, I take it you’re a bit of an independent woman?”

Emily’s posture seemed stiff but she answered, “What makes you say that?”

“Well, it’s just that, you said you don’t like orders, but being... er, a Victorian woman?” Sarah didn’t know how to say what she wanted to without sounding rude.

“I’m supposed to do what I’m told.”

“Something like that.”

“As I said, most would not consider me very fine,” Emily said, demurring.

Sarah laughed. “I’m afraid I’d have to disagree with them.”

Emily smiled then, genuinely. “Yes, I can see why you would.”

“Is that why you keep traveling through the anomalies? Because you don’t fit in?”

There was a protracted silence and Sarah feared that their days of being snowed in together hadn’t been enough to warm Emily to her, after all. But then Emily said, “I never felt I belonged. When I travel, I’m not home, and yet I feel more at home than I ever have before. Sometimes I think I may find somewhere and... and stay there. But I know that’s a silly thing even to think.”

“Why?”

“It’s nothing more than a dream and I am not a little girl any more, who has the luxury to dream silly dreams.”

“Little girls don’t stop deserving to find happiness when they grow up into women.”

“No, but they learn that life is more complicated than that. They learn that they have duties and responsibilities that must come first.”

“Now you sound like a good Victorian wife,” Sarah said, and she didn’t mean it as a compliment.

She was met with silence and didn’t pursue the subject. Instead she trudged through the snow and wished that there had been some snowshoes left in the cabin by their mysterious benefactors. Not that Sarah had ever walked in snowshoes before, but she thought it could not have been harder to learn than it was to sink in the drifts and get snow in her boots.

Oh, well. At least she had boots, of a sort, even if they were too small, just as her dress was. She hoped she wasn’t going to end up with blisters.

They came across animal tracks here and there, though Sarah didn’t know enough to be able to identify them. She did know, however, that there was a wolf pack around. She had heard them howling, an eerie sound even though she knew better than to fear them.

Unless, of course, they were starving. She really hoped they weren’t starving. Or rabid.

“It hasn’t opened,” Emily said, her voice sounding strange after the extended silence.

“Oh,” Sarah said, because she didn’t know how else to respond. She wasn’t even sure if she was glad or not - while she wanted to go home, she wasn’t sure she was ready to leave Emily yet. She wondered if Emily would come through with her if an anomaly opened. Perhaps they could go traveling together, since Emily had lost her own companions.

She wondered if that was something Emily would ever want.

“There is a town, if we keep walking through the woods in this direction,” Emily said, pointing. “It’s far, but if you’d rather...”

“No,” Sarah said immediately. “I’d rather stay with you.” She felt stupid for saying it like that but Emily looked almost pleased anyway.

Perhaps she actually would be amenable to the traveling idea.

“Let’s head back, then, and we can do a southerly loop near the cabin. Or is that too much of an order for you to handle?”

“I’ll allow it,” Sarah said, meeting Emily’s cautious smile.

Emily led them back on a different path, so that they would cover as much ground as possible, in case an anomaly had opened in another place. On their way, Emily noted a fresh set of tracks. “A moose, most likely,” she said.

Sarah thought even she would have been able to guess that by the large hoofprints left in the snow. They looked uneven, like the prints of an animal surviving with an injury. “Should we try to go around it?”

“I’m afraid if we venture too far off the path I’m familiar with trying to avoid it, we’ll get lost. We’ll simply need to be careful not to startle it or frighten it in any way.”

“Well, I imagine it will hear us as we get closer. We’re probably not the quietest of forest inhabitants.”

“Probably not,” Emily agreed, as they continued on their way.

Soon enough they saw the moose in the distance, nosing at the twigs on a tree. It must have been nearly two metres at the shoulder, huge and somehow majestic. It was thin, too, in the midst of a hard winter, and there was something off about its stance, as though its left hind leg was injured, as Sarah had wondered from the tracks. It was a striking sight even so, a beautiful creature against the serene, white backdrop of the snowy woods. Sarah was caught rather speechless.

After a few moments, she was going to suggest they leave before they disturbed the animal, but Emily caught her sleeve, looking tense. “Wait,” she hissed.

Then Sarah saw it. The wolves.

They had crept up around the moose, narrowing the distance and moving in slowly. The moose jerked its head, clearly noticing them. Sarah knew it was probably her own sentiments getting in the way, but she thought the creature’s eyes looked large and afraid.

It didn’t run, as Sarah thought it would. Instead it stood its ground as the wolves began darting in. It reared up onto its hind legs in order to strike out with its front legs, but Sarah could see immediately that she had been right. It was unsteady and struggled to bear weight. Even so it made contact with one of the wolves, bashing it head on. The wolf yelped and was tossed aside, lying in the snow.

But it wasn’t enough. The wolves would spring in quickly and bite at the moose’s body, its sides and hindquarters, working in tandem as the moose tried to defend itself from all sides. It was bleeding in several places and Sarah knew this was what happened, the wolves had to survive, and they were _good._ Apex predators, as Connor might say.

But she didn’t want to see it.

Emily touched her arm, jerking her head silently, and Sarah willingly went with her. She had little doubt that the wolves knew they were there, they must have been able to smell them, but the distraction of the hunt held their focus. She and Emily must have presented little interest and even smaller threat.

Sarah felt a bit subdued after that and she and Emily finished their walk in silence. Not uncomfortable, just… silent. They didn’t come across an anomaly.

When they returned to the cabin, chilled and with rosy cheeks from the cold, Emily, to Sarah’s great surprise, took out a bottle of whiskey. “Kept for medicinal purposes mostly, I expect, but I think our adventure counts, don’t you?”

Sarah very much agreed and perhaps too eagerly accepted the cup Emily handed her. “It’s not warm apple cider with rum, but it’ll do at a pinch,” she said.

Emily took a not entirely ladylike drink from her cup. “Burns all the way down. In that respect, it is very medicinal, you see. Warming.”

“Of course,” Sarah said, fighting a sudden, intense desire to kiss Emily full on the mouth.

The cabin was too cold, as they’d been gone for so long, so they took some time to build up another fire. Emily showed Sarah how to make cornbread and they shared it, piping hot, with rice and beans cooked in a pot over the fire. Emily lit a candle to put in the window, like a beacon to nonexistent passersby.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Emily said, her shoulder brushing against Sarah’s as they sat together in front of the fireplace. There were chairs but Sarah much preferred this arrangement.

“Is it?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t got you anything,” Emily said, making Sarah laugh.

“Good, at least I won’t be the rude one, then. Shall we go outside and chop down a tree? I think there’s plenty.”

The firelight seemed to dance in Emily’s brown eyes. “I admit it does feel odd without a tree, but I don’t particularly want to drag one in here.”

“I always put up a little fake one in my flat,” Sarah said. “A bit like a Charlie Brown tree, to be honest. Except fake, which sort of ruins the point.”

A line of puzzlement formed between Emily’s eyebrows. “Charlie Brown?”

“Sorry, pop culture reference. He buys this tiny tree because it’s the only real one they’ve got, and then everybody laughs at him.”

“It sounds depressing.”

“It’s sweet at the end, I promise.”

“I believe you,” Emily said, coming across as very sweet herself, and Sarah wanted to tell her that she’d show it to her, Emily could come home with Sarah and she’d show her so many things.

Except that made her seem desperate and obsessed so instead she said, “What do you usually do for Christmas?”

Emily had a faraway, sad gleam in her eyes as she spoke. “Well, everything _looked_ lovely, I suppose. The tree, draped with ribbons and lit with candles, the evergreen, the holly. My family would exchange gifts and we’d have Christmas dinner, goose and pudding and Christmas crackers.”

“But?” Sarah prompted.

“But Christmas is a time for family and my family is not… not one I would choose,” Emily said.

Sarah didn’t know what to do so she just let herself press tighter against Emily’s side, offering the warmth of human contact and hoping Emily would accept it in the spirit in which it was meant.

Emily didn’t move away. She said, “When I was a girl, we used to gather around my grandfather in his chair by the fire and he would scare us with tales of spectres.”

“Ghost stories on Christmas Eve,” Sarah said. “I always liked that tradition.”

“I don’t…” Emily swallowed, like a nervous reflex. “I am not the most gifted storyteller, but I can try, if you like.”

Sarah dared to squeeze Emily’s hand where it rested upon her knee. “I would like that a great deal.”

Emily cleared her throat, looking towards the fire instead of at Sarah. “The wind howled and the soldier shivered, wishing that he was in the tavern having a pint rather than keeping watch. He drew his cloak tighter around himself, peering out into the dark night.

“A bell rang, signaling the hour had struck one, and the soldier started. The commander would be by soon, making his rounds of the sentries along the wall, but at the moment the soldier felt like he was utterly alone. He thought the northeast tower must be the most forlorn corner in all the world.

“He turned, boots scuffing against the icy ground, unsure even of what had caught his attention and yet his hand was on his sword. The wind, perhaps, and yet… There was a sound, like the quiet exhale of breath, like a light footstep across the stone. The soldier paced along the wall but there was no one there.

“A faint scent, like… like fresh-cut flowers, like summer, drifted on the wind’s current. His imagination, the soldier told himself firmly. Flowers could not grow in the ice. There was nothing there but him, a solitary figure beneath the stars. There was nothing there.

“It was then that the moon came out from behind the clouds, casting new shadows and breathing dim light onto the wall. The soldier looked into the blackness and nearly fell, for there in the shadows was a shape, a black darker than the night, making a sound like a cloak dragging along the ground, or a long dress. The smell of flowers was almost overpowering.

“The soldier cried out as the clouds again covered the moon and the loud stomp of boots filled the silence. The commander called to him but the soldier felt as though he could not speak, as though his words were caught deep in his throat.

“There was no one there. Only the soldier and his commander. There was nothing in the darkness, the commander said. He relieved the soldier of his duty, bidding him to sleep off the drink or whatever was causing his mania.

“The soldier went down the stairs on unsteady feet, a chill settling into his bones and laying to rest there. An old man asked, did you see her? Did you see the lady?

“The soldier said that he had not. He had seen nothing. He told himself he had seen nothing.

“As the soldier went on his way, the old man said to himself, I hope you did not. For your sake, I hope you did not.”

As Emily stopped speaking, Sarah felt herself shiver, though the fire was warm.

“I’m sure my grandfather told it much better,” Emily added hurriedly, the faintest of pink tinges in her cheeks, and Sarah thought she couldn’t be blamed for being utterly unable to stop herself doing what she did next.

Sarah kissed her. She laid her palm to Emily’s cheek and just kissed her, nothing more than a soft press of lips, but it felt like the best thing Sarah had done in ages.

And potentially the dumbest thing also, but Emily wasn’t fighting her. She stayed there, her lips warm against Sarah’s, until Sarah pulled back.

The flush in Emily’s cheeks had deepened and she raised her fingers to her lips.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have done that,” Sarah said when Emily remained quiet. “I suppose we’d be getting arrested where you’re from, if we’d been seen doing that.”

“Indeed,” Emily said gravely. “A silly law, I’ve come to believe,” she continued, making Sarah raise an eyebrow. “But I should have stopped you. I… I have a husband back home, you see, and it isn’t much of a marriage, but it’s still a marriage. I should have told you.”

“I should have known,” Sarah said, and she should have. Of course Emily was married. It put everything she’d said since they had first met into context and Sarah was such an idiot. “I understand,” she added, though the crushing disappointment she felt wasn’t only for herself. Emily deserved someone who would love her.

Sarah thought that maybe she could have, given half a chance.

Emily reached out and brushed Sarah’s hand with her own, her eyes dropping downwards and then up, as if she was nervous. “Sarah, in my travels I’ve seen a great deal of strange, wondrous, and frightening things. And I’ve learned… I’ve learned that no one can know what will come. I would like it very much if we could continue to be friends, and… We’ll see where that path leads us.”

The weight seemed to lift and Sarah turned her hand over, holding Emily’s hand gently. “I would like that very much, too,” she said, rewarded by Emily’s tentative but bright, bright smile.

The prospect of enduring the harsh Minnesota winter for as long as it took to return home didn’t seem so daunting any more.

**_End_ **


End file.
